Back to reality Hurley
by merry holdwine
Summary: AU. The raft has been found and the people on it rescued. All the crash survivors are brought back to “real life”, more or less easily. Here’s what happens for Hurley.


**Back to reality...Hurley**

**Author: **merry holdwine

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** AU. The raft has been found and the people on it rescued. All the crash survivors are brought back to "real life", more or less easily. Here's what happens for Hurley.

**Disclaimer:** J.J. Abrams & Damon Lindelof have created Lost. David Fury, Javi & all these brilliant writers also have to be mentioned. I'm only having fun with the characters.

**Spoilers: **Season 1

**Note:**

This fanfiction is part of a story written by the members of the French board lost-island_**dot**_net, including me (Merry) and initiated by Lou. Everyone picked a character and wrote his/her story, sometimes interacting with each other. I'm just translating my part of it to practice my English skills and also because people said I would make a good Hurley lol. But you don't need to read the other parts to understand mine.

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**_Chapter 1:_****_ Survivors_**

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42... even now, as he was lying down in a (relative) safe place, they were all that he had in mind. He could not stop seeing the moments of his life that were linked to these cursed numbers, like a movie that someone kept rewinding again and again. Chapter 1, the psych ward where he heard the numbers for the first time. Chapter 2, the moment they appeared on his TV screen, similar to those of the lottery ticket that he was holding in his moist hands. And so on... the terror in Lenny's eyes when he told him he had used the numbers, his encounter with the widow Toomey, the numbers doodled all over the French Chick's documents and more than everything, the moment when he had found them on that... what the hell was that thing now? Oh yeah, right, they had no clue. Scientist guys, fresh from the latest sci-fi blockbuster, had taken their place over there.

They would be the ones appointed to find where this kind of giant without-easy-opening can comes from and what its point was, if any. And they, the _survivors_, as everyone was calling them, would probably never know. He didn't want to know anyway. He wanted to avoid everything that was more or less linked to the cursed numbers. That's the reason why, when he had left the hospital (it had taken three days of intensive medical examinations to determine that, with the exception of a disturbed diet, most of the castaways were only suffering from scrapes and bruises), he refused to catch the flight #423 for LA. He would take the next one tomorrow.

Hurley kept turning in his bed in the hotel room. But sleep just wouldn't come. Sleep didn't help anyhow. His memories were following him even in Morpheus' Kingdom. Maybe he would need a therapy. Maybe he'll even have to go back to that hospital.

A phone ring cut short his train of thoughts. It was his personal manager, of course. Since he had learned that his client was not dead after all, he kept calling him every few minutes. Apparently his mother had let him be in charge during his "vacation" and Hurley was now even richer than he was when the plane crashed on the island, especially because of the impact that his miraculous return had on his companies' shares. Hugo declined every single request that Richard told him about. No interview, no documentary, no freakin' biography. He also asked him to keep taking care of his various businesses for the time being.

'There's only one thing I need you to do for me,' he finally said, taken by a sudden inspiration. 'Write a $83,000 check to Walt Lloyd,' he instructed, remembering the family name on the plane manifest. 'And send it to...' Silence fell. Hurley had no idea of where Walt and his father were now. He hadn't seen them since they left on the raft but he did know they had been rescued.

'Mr Reyes?'

'Err yeah, I don't have the exact address but find the residence of a certain Michael Dawson in New York and send the money there, you'll be able to do that, won't you ?'

'I will try, Mr Reyes.'

Hurley hung up the phone and let out a big sigh. He sat back in the bed and grabbed the TV remote control. He was not surprised to see that every single channel was broadcasting something about flight 815. He had a good laugh at a report in London showing Charlie fleeing from hysterical fans. Back on the island days, the young Englishman had been ceaselessly heard talking about his rock band and seen looking for fans among his fellow castaways. Now that he was literally overflowed by celebrity, he didn't seem to enjoy it as much as he used to pretend to. Hurley switched the channel and for a few minutes watched a debate in which several persons, more or less qualified, were trying to decide whether Kate should be put back to jail or not. All of that illustrated by recent footage of her being taken away by agents. The list of the accusations charged against her made Hugo's jaw drop.

'Wow... no wonder this Marshall was so keen on finding her.'

But the thing was, in his mind, these charges were against Katherine Austin, not against the Kate that he had learnt to like on the island and who wasn't behaving like a pityless criminal like these journalists seemed to affirm. The phone rang again. Hurley mechanically answered. It was Richard again on the other end.

'Mr Reyes, I have some great news that will bring you even more request for interviews...'

'Let's still hear it...' said a blasé Hurley.

'One of the employees in your Tustin company was also a passenger of flight 815 and he's among the survivors.'

'Really ? D'you know his name ?'

'Yes, his name is John Locke and-'

'John Locke? THE John Locke? I-kill-wild-board-with-my-bare-hands John Locke?' Hurley chuckled. 'Dude, I thought this guy was in the army or professional killer or something.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Reyes, the John Locke whose information I have in front of me has been paralyzed for four years...'

Hurley dropped the phone. On the TV evening news, a bald man was sitting in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse towards a car with tinted windows while journalist were trying to get closer in spite of the numerous policeman around them. The anchorman's and Richard's voices were disappearing in an incomprehensible background noise.

'...paralyzed for four years but among the survivors...'

'...it's serious Mr Reyes, they want to write a book out of...'

'...employed in a californian box company...'

'...or maybe a movie or a TV show!'

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
